The Vampire's Vice
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Sherlock wants... no, needs something from Molly that she's simply unwilling to give. Think he'll give up easily? Probably not.
1. Trying in Vain

_Here's chapter one of my Halloween story. Big thanks to MizJoely for all her help (and unwavering honesty). Mel-loves-all did a wonderful photomanip for this fic and it's posted with the story on AO3 and my tumblr blog (same name). Chapter two will be up by the end of Halloween at 221B A Sherlolly Celebration (also, it's a lot longer… and might be sexier ; )_

 _It's a vampire story, my lovelies, there be blood talk and perhaps biting (perhaps, she says…)_

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 ** _-Chapter One- Trying in Vain-_**

Molly knew he was there. Of course she knew. Even though he had more or less just _appeared,_ completely silent and, she assumed, motionless as she could hear not a sound, she felt his presence like a dark spector behind her and slightly to her left. She ignored him, attempting to concentrate on the cells under her microscope. She knew what he wanted and wasn't about to change her mind. But suddenly his breath, though negligible (and unnecessary, so that meant he was doing it deliberately, the git!), teased her neck and she had no choice but to respond.

"Damnit Sherlock! I said no and I meant it!" she huffed, flicking a hand over her shoulder like she was shooing away a fly.

" _Molly,_ " his deep baritone purred.

She tried not to let it affect her. His new-found instinct to use seduction, not simple flirtation, to achieve a goal was nothing more than a tactic used by his kind. She had to be strong, she owed it to herself. Without turning around she said, "Don't start."

"Molly…"

"I'm not in the mood for your tricks."

"But I'm hungry," he whined, clearly giving up on the use of his sexuality to get what he needed.

"That's not my problem. Mycroft is keeping you supplied, so…"

"It's not the same as… _yours_. And besides, it's cold."

"That's what microwaves are for," she snapped.

The detective growled, grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her towards him to face him. "I hate having to do this, Molly…"

"Then don't," she pleaded, with a quick glance to his mouth.

Their eyes locked and she felt a shiver of fear mixed with arousal knowing he was considering compelling her to allow him to have his way. He had only attempted it once before, but had not followed through in the end, thankfully.

Sherlock licked his lips, then Molly saw his teeth, which had been extended - ready to feed - retract to 'normal' (or _not_ normal, depending on how you look at it). "You never used to be this difficult."

She shrugged his hands off and straightened her lab coat. "And you never used to be a vampire."

"Once was a time you were happy to help me, with anything."

"Go home, Sherlock." She hated the defeated sound of her voice. "You're clearly mad with hunger."

With a flourish, he turned and stalked out of the lab.

* * *

Molly was leaning on against a wall outside a pub, talking on her mobile. John and Mary were happily eating starters and having drinks inside while she'd been stuck in the alley for fifteen minutes trying to talk Meena down from a complete freak out. The poor woman was in the middle of a fight with her current beau. Suddenly she felt herself moving forward, her feet sliding, not walking, until she was several feet away from the wall. "Mother fu- Meena, I'll have to call you back. This alley has bats." She stowed her phone in her pocket and turned just in time to see Sherlock grinning at her like an idiot.

"I can hardly sneak up on you if your back's against the wall all bloody night."

"So your solution is to drag me around like a rag doll? In public no less!" she added through gritted teeth, looking around for bystanders.

"You're being rude to your dinner companions," he said as he brushed a lock of hair over her shoulder.

"Not as rude as you. Showing up almost an hour late then stalking me rather than joining your friends for dinner."

"I'd love to join my _friend_ for _dinner…_ "

"Oh shut it, Sherlock!" She pushed on his chest. "Have you already gone through the blood I gave you?"

"Ah, yes."

Molly wasn't sure why, but she didn't really believe him. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am. You're still continuing this ridiculous notion that I can't feed directly from you then?"

She sighed. Even after going to Mycroft's creepy government lab and letting some strange looking woman in an old fashioned nurse's uniform draw her blood _twice_ , Sherlock was still on this 'feeding' business. She had wanted to just draw the blood herself, but no, Mycroft insisted he have access to it first. _For testing_ , he'd said. Sherlock later explained that his brother was desperately looking for a cure (though she had her doubts about that, more likely he was using this as an excuse to experiment on his own family) and for some reason her blood was important. Not that she minded providing nourishment for her friend; she didn't. If giving blood every once in awhile was something she needed to do, she'd happily contribute. On her own terms, however.

"You have my blood, Sherlock, why do you keep…"

He stepped back and ruffled his hair. "Our friends are waiting, Molly." Offering her his elbow, he said, "Shall we?"

 _Maddening!_ she thought as she allowed him to escort her back inside the pub.

* * *

Well, it hadn't been the worst date of her life, but very nearly. Now she was walking home on a cold October evening and wishing she'd taken the Tube. Thankfully she was almost at her building, though she'd managed to half-freeze herself in an attempt to 'walk off her frustration'.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, she felt an arm around her shoulder. "I'll not offer much warmth, but some is better than none. It's not as if you can't be choosy at this point," the voice attached to the arm explained.

Stopping and holding a hand to her pounding chest Molly said, "Shit! That's a good way to get yourself killed, Sherlock!"

"What makes you think you could harm me, Miss Hooper?" he replied with a smirk.

"Advanced pilates!"

He chuckled. "I believe you've forgotten an important factor: I'm already dead. Hard to kill something that has no life." He pulled her closer and even though he wasn't nearly as warm as a normal human, he did offer some warmth. If nothing else, he shielded her from the chilly breeze.

"Don't say things like that, please?"

"Sorry." He squeezed her shoulder. "Let's get you in out of the cold."

They continued on, his arm around her holding her close. The irony wasn't lost on her. Sherlock Holmes had touched Molly a grand total of four times during their entire acquaintance, excluding pushing her out of the way to get to the microscope or bumping into her on his way to see a corpse. But since he'd been Turned he couldn't keep his hands off of her. She was no fool; the touches were just tactics to get what he wanted. Unfortunately for him, what he wanted she wasn't prepared to give.

"Here we are," he announced as they arrived in front of Molly's building. "Safe and sound."

She fished her keys out of her bag and unlocked the door. As she started into the flat she noticed that Sherlock wasn't following. "You want some tea?" she asked.

He looked around nervously.

With a roll of her eyes she said, "Won't you please come inside my home and have some tea, Sherlock?"

"That'd be lovely, thank you." He walked across the threshold. "It's been nearly four months, Molly, you'd think you'd remember by now."

Toby made himself scarce as soon as the pair walked into the flat just as he had since Sherlock's change. Her two favourite males had come to a sort of truce in recent years, but now it seemed he was terrified of her friend. The first few meetings between human and cat Toby hadn't seemed to like the idea of another masculine presence in her life (if more than one pair of ruined shoes was anything to go by). But he must have eventually realised that the detective wasn't going anywhere and simply ignored Sherlock's protests when the feline would rub against his leg or, God forbid, take a nap on the Belstaff. Oddly he never seemed to have an opinion of Tom, appearing completely indifferent to her onetime fiance. Though he did express his dislike for Tom's dog, often and painfully.

She settled into her kitchen and started preparing the tea. Sherlock hovered right behind her, making her more than a little nervous. As she waited for the kettle to boil she decided to change clothes. Turning to leave the room she found him blocking her path.

"Can I get through? I'd like to put on my pj's."

"Why won't you let me?" he asked, not looking in her eyes. He was focused, as per usual, on her throat. "You let me once before."

"Sherlock…"

"Was it painful? I- I don't want to hurt you, but…"

"No, Sherlock, it didn't really hurt."

"They why?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Try."

"I don't want to." The kettle whistled and Sherlock took it off the heat then turned back to her, never giving her an escape route.

She backed up against the counter, Sherlock's body nearly touching hers. Molly stared into his eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated and his irises had turned an interesting shade of purple. Molly had theorized the last time it had happened that it was blood mixing with the existing blue. If it had happened during his initial transformation, she hadn't noticed having had her eyes tightly shut while he fed.

Staring at her neck he repeatedly licked his lips. "Please, Molly. Why will you not let me have you?" he whispered.

 _God, does he not even hear himself?_ Her body was reacting and she was hopeless to stop it. "I don't think you'd understand, Sherlock. Even if I explained it."

His hands came up to hold her in place, one on her bicep and the other on hip. "Molly…"

She had to stop him… and _her_ , for that matter. She was seconds away from giving in. "Fine! I'll tell you. If you move back and give me space, I'll tell you."

He gave her a look that said he wasn't sure he wanted to give up his position, but moved nevertheless.

"You were out of it when I found you. Nearly… well I thought you were dead. But then my phone rang. It was your brother."

"I know what happened, Molly. I've seen the rep…"

"Let me speak!" She took a deep breath. "He said he had eyes on you - on us - and explained what I needed to do - that I needed to feed you or you'd not survive. So I cut my wrist and allowed you to drink from me." Molly paced away and tried to calm down her racing heart before proceeding. "You woke up suddenly, a-and when you did… you weren't yourself."

"What?"

"You tackled me to the floor and… bit my neck." Her hand immediately went to the spot where he'd latched on, and she rubbed it self-consciously.

His eyes were unfocused; he was clearly trying to pull up the memory.

"Mycroft told me later that you didn't remember much of that night."

"I don't. Not really. I do remember your blood, how it tasted, but not much else."

"So you continued to feed. And, oh God…" She rubbed her hands over her reddening face. This was the hard part, the part that was both humiliating and thrilling.

"What Molly, what happened? Tell me, I need to know!" he demanded.

"I had an orgasm, okay!" she shouted, not really meaning to. "I enjoyed it… a lot. And, I'm sorry, Sherlock, I just… look, this is so fucking uncomfortable, can we please just drop it?" She hated begging him, hated sounding so weak. But he'd pushed and pushed...

He took one step toward her and she put up her hands to stop him. "Molly…"

"It's late, so… I'm just going to go to bed. Have your tea if you want. Good night, Sherlock." She locked herself in her bedroom and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Molly wouldn't hear from Sherlock for nearly two weeks and when she did it was, of course, in the most dramatic way.

St. Barts was hosting a Halloween party for the staff and Molly had decided to attend. Okay, she'd been talked into it by Mary Watson. Neither Mary or John worked at the hospital, but had been invited by Mike Stamford as John was a sort of fixture along with his crime solving best friend.

So she managed to put together a costume (a rather clever one if she did say so herself) and pulled herself out of the funk that had overtaken her since her last encounter with Sherlock.

Mary Watson up dressed like something straight out of a Bond film. "Having fun?" she asked.

"Sure," Molly answered then pointed to Mary's dress "You're…"

"Mrs. Smith." She motioned to her husband, who was talking to the head of the Oncology department and looking very smart in his three-piece suit. "And he's Mr. Smith," she added with a wink.

Molly laughed, then an odd silence settled over the pair. After a few minutes Mary spoke again. "He's fine, you know. We saw him just yesterday."

She loved the vivacious blonde, but having a female version of Sherlock around to read her mind as if she had the depth of a petri dish was more than a little disconcerting. "That's good. We had a bit of a row."

Mary put her hand on Molly's arm. "Try to have fun tonight. Let go a little. The last four months have been terribly difficult for you."

"And for you and John and…"

"But not like you. It's been even harder on you, luv," she said with a knowing look then turned and grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and handed it to Molly. "Drink this and relax," she urged before wandering off to find her husband.

 _Easy for her to say,_ Molly thought as she sipped the… _eww, what the hell is this?_

"I've finally figured out your costume," a voice came from behind her, causing her to shiver.

She turned around to see Sherlock dressed as an authentic looking vampire (at least by Hollywood's standards, she knew a little better now). His black, high-collared cloak almost seemed to be made of the same material as his Belstaff, which was ridiculous. Belstaff didn't make cloaks… did they? But it _was_ eerily similar. She couldn't really make out the rest of his costume, though the cloak, plus his unsheathed fangs, were all it really took to pull off the look.

"At least I didn't come dressed as myself," she said, refocusing her attention on the crowd.

He flicked at the plastic knife sticking out of the box attached to her chest. "Good choice, though. If I was going to murder cereal it would definitely be Weetabix."

"It's clever, no?" She proudly looked down at her homemade costume. When she looked back up she found him smiling fondly at her.

"It's just so perfectly _you_ , Molly." His voice was almost wistful and so soft that she barely heard it above the music. "If you've had enough of this… gathering," he said looking around the room for a split second. "I'd like to speak to you somewhere more private."

She panicked, her mind pulling in two different directions. Half of her wanted to refuse, to tell him she'd said all there was to say. But the other half, the one that had always cared deeply for the maddening genius and always felt the pull to give him what he needed, refused to give up.

"Okay. Where?" she asked.

Holding out his hand to her he asked, "Do you trust me?"

As she up into his eyes she realised that no matter what he'd never hurt her - never taken advantage, at least not recently nor maliciously, she believed. And he certainly could have. At any point over the last four months he could have simply _taken_ what he wanted, but he always stopped just short.

"I've always trusted you, Sherlock," she answered, holding up her hand to take his.

He didn't speak, just led her from the room. They walked down the back hallway, taking so many turns that Molly was soon lost. Finally they reached a service exit. Once there he carefully removed her _deceased cereal box_. It was easy as she'd simply attached it with a bit of string like an overly large and unattractive necklace.

"I assume you have no attachment to your _costume_?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the word costume.

Okay, it was a stretch to call it that, but at least she had tried (and she still thought it was quite clever). Other than the box she was dressed much like she'd normally dress: a pair of jeans and a warm jumper. Molly shook her head and Sherlock tossed the box and fake knife in a nearby bin.

They then stepped out into the chilly October night. He turned to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his billowing cloak enveloping her, and she instantly felt infused with warmth. "Hold onto me as tight as you can, Molly. And whatever you do, don't let go."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading my first Vamp!Lock. Please let me know how I'm doing. One more chapter to go. ~Lil~_


	2. Dying In Vein

_And here's chapter two. As promised it's a wee bit longer and a wee bit sexier. HUGE thanks go to MizJoely on this one. I was headed in the completely wrong direction and she put me on the right path. I am blessed to have her in my life._

 _Thank you to the guest reviewers also!_

 _Remember, it's a vampire fic, with biting and blood (and smut)._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 _ **\- Chapter Two -Dying in Vein-**_

It was a good thing that Molly meant it when she said that she trusted Sherlock, otherwise she would have been completely freaking out! " _Really?!_ You can fly?!" she said, holding onto the detective for dear life. Okay, maybe she _was_ freaking out, just a bit.

"Obviously, Molly," he replied in a bored tone, not at all consistent with their current situation. "You're not afraid of heights and I have no intention of dropping you. Now just enjoy yourself." Then he smirked like he was proud of showing off his newly acquired skill.

She wanted to kick him (though he did look terribly handsome and heroic, basically just down-right sexy), but she didn't want to break his concentration, so she settled on watching the scenery pass them by. It didn't take long for her to realise that they were heading out of London. The view was breathtaking. "Where are we going?" Unable to tear her gaze from the passing landscape below, she mumbled, "God, I feel like Lois Lane"

"Who?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Never mind. Seriously Sherlock, where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere we can talk without any distractions."

"That's a bit vague."

"Fine, we're going to my uncle's cottage in Odiham. My dead uncle, father's brother. I met him once when I was nine. He smelled of menthol cigarettes and burnt chips."

"Let's hope his cottage smells better," she said with a giggle.

"It does. I was there earlier today to assure that it was acceptable."

After another twenty minutes or so they started to descend. Molly's stomach lurched a bit as they swooped down, and though they moved smoothly she still felt a bit nauseated. Then they were, thankfully, on the ground.

"That was… okay, that was pretty impressive." She smiled up at him. That's when she realised that his arms were still around her, their bodies close, but not touching otherwise.

"I thought you might like it."

She started to take a step back, but his hold tightened and Molly decided it wasn't such a horrible place to be, for the moment. _Because of the cold!_ She was still slightly chilled from their trip. "So, when did you learn that little gem?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the overwhelming feeling of his body mere inches away from hers.

"That's a long and boring story. Worst of all it involves my brother. Let's get you inside where it's warm," he said, finally releasing her, yet keeping one of her hands to lead her into the cottage.

The inside of the small but well kept cottage was warm and toasty. She looked around and saw the source of heat, an old fashioned pot-bellied stove in the corner of the room. _Rustic_ , she thought approvingly, but also shocked that Sherlock would enjoy having a bolthole this far outside of London. "Is this place yours, then?"

"So to speak. No one else wanted it." He looked around. "It has a caretaker, but no one actually uses it anymore. I thought I might spend some time here to just..." he trailed off, seemingly uncomfortable. As he removed his cloak he said, "It's one of the few untouched properties left in this part of the county."

"So it was lonely."

He nodded. "Won't you have a seat?" he said motioning to the settee.

It was clearly new, as were most of the furnishings. Molly wondered exactly what Sherlock had planned for the old cottage. Perhaps he just needed a place to get away.

He stepped out of the room and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Still slightly shaken from their flight, Molly more than happily accepted the alcohol when he handed her a glass. Mentally preparing herself for the worst, she took a large drink of the wine.

Taking a seat across from her in an armchair, Sherlock said, "I owe you an apology, Molly."

Well, she wasn't expecting that. "What for?"

He looked down at the wine glass in his hands, but didn't take a drink. Looking up he said, "I was under the impression that you felt differently about certain things. And perhaps before… that night, you did. But it's obvious to me now that you don't see me the same as you once did."

His statement was very nearly clumsy, not his normal carefully calculated prose.

"Sherlock, nothing's changed as far as I'm concerned. I still care about you and as I once told you, if you need anything, anything at all, I'll be here for you."

With his head down he seemed to think for a moment before speaking. "Indeed, but you clearly disliked your reaction to my feeding. And I am sorry that I make you uncomfortable now." He looked up. "You said you trust me, but... are you frightened of me, Molly?"

She was horrified at the idea that Sherlock Holmes thought she was afraid of him. Yes, that night had been frightening, but he'd never hurt her. Even the feeling of his teeth sinking into her neck had caused pleasure to jolt through her body mixing with pain in a way she'd never experienced before. Was that the reason he'd kept his distance since she'd told him about the night he'd been Turned? "No, I'm not afraid of you. That's not why my reaction is upsetting. You understand that, don't you?"

He finally took a drink of his wine then stood, nearly draining it before putting the glass back on the table. Crossing the room he said, "No. No, I- I don't." He turned around. "Molly…"

She immediately got up and walked to him. She could take many things, but an uncomfortable, struggling Sherlock Holmes wasn't one of them. "I'm not afraid of you, Sherlock." She took one of his hands in both of hers. It was cool to the touch, but not cold. "But surely you can see how..." She thought for a minute, searching for the right word. "... _confusing_ it would be for me to experience that feeling with you after all the effort I've put into our friendship. I understand your limits and I respect them. I know you don't want more from me than…"

"See, that's where you're wrong," he interrupted. "As unfair as it for me to say this now..." Pausing, he pulled his hands away from her and ran them both through his hair. He sighed. "It's useless and really, an utterly moot point, but I… if I had it to do over again, you would be mine- would have been mine- long ago."

Molly stood stunned, trying to take in his words. After several seconds, maybe minutes, she shook herself and said, "I don't think I understand what you're saying…"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!"

"I'm saying I made a mistake. I'm saying I thought I had more time to do this right." He huffed and looked away. "Actually, now I have all the time in the world, ironically…"

"Sherlock!"

With a sigh he said, "I thought I'd be able to tell you later, when things settled down… _if_ things settled down. That's not really an option now. And you're clearly repulsed by the thought of me sexually- romantically, since I've become _this_." He motioned to himself as if to make his point.

 _Oh good Lord!_ Molly paced away from the him and tried to gather her thoughts. Then she realised that she needed to hear him say it. Say exactly what _it_ was. She turned to him. "Sherlock, are you saying that you care for me?"

He rolled his eyes. "That's not why I brought you here, Molly. Nor was it to coerce you into allowing me to feed. I've made peace with the fact that I'll be without your affection and direct supply, as it were, for eternity. I just didn't want you to be afraid of me. I need your trust… desperately."

By the end of his statement he looked sad and lost and it occurred to Molly what he was really saying. Her trust was the closest thing he thought he'd get to her love, now at least. _Oh, when he gets it wrong, he_ really _gets it wrong._

"I do trust you. I've always trusted you. What's more, Sherlock… I love you. I simply can't stop, no matter how hard I've tried." _In for a penny…_ "And since that night I've f-fantasised about you… biting me again. Taking it further. Taking... _me_." She paused, not believing she was actually saying this to him. "I thought you just wanted my blood because it was the first you'd tasted and it was some sort of addiction- a replacement for…something else. But…"

She never got to finish her sentence because he was on her; she never even saw him move. He held her close, their bodies touching chest to knees. "Not an addiction per se, but a… need. Not just for your blood, Molly, but for your _everything_." He clutched her shoulders tightly, as if she might run. His pupils were slightly dilated and had become the most beautiful shade of purple she'd ever seen.

He smiled as he lowered his head. "You smell divine, Molly." His nose was tickling her throat as he inhaled. "I _can_ satisfy you without biting you. I fed just before the party, the last of the bags you provided, by the way." His tongue traced her pulse point. "I needed to be able to control myself. Even though I planned to keep my distance."

Molly's mind was racing. He wanted her, _her everything_. Good Lord, she was actually shivering in anticipation and all he was doing was… _fuck…_ licking her neck. She moved her hands up into his hair, his incredibly soft hair, and held his head as he started to suckle at her skin. Knowing that she had a decision to make, she attempted to clear her head. "Ah, Sh-Sherlock…"

He removed his mouth momentarily to answer her. "Yes, Molly." Then he was right back to his wet, nibbling kisses. His teeth were clearly sheathed since she could only feel the blunt tips of central incisors. He'd either drank quite a bit of blood earlier, or he was practicing an amazing amount of control.

"If you did bit me, if you did feed _during_ , the experience would be more enjoyable for both of us, no?"

Moving his hands to her back, his hips surged forward, driving his erection into her stomach. "Don't ask stupid questions," he whispered hotly against her ear. Though his statement was mocking, but it wasn't harsh. "It would be far more than enjoyable, Molly." He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "It would be exquisite." He followed up with a firm, but not piercing, bite to her ear.

Molly's knees started to buckle but Sherlock caught her up in his arms and suddenly they were in another room… _a bedroom_ , she noticed, since she was reclining on a large bed. It was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. "How do you do that, by the way? Is it like teleportation or..." she started.

"I know you have questions, but they'll have to wait. I'll give you a full explanation later, with Powerpoint if you like." He supported his weight on his forearms, his lower body barely touching her. "But right now I need to know. You need to tell me, very clearly, if this is what you want."

"I want this, Sherlock," she responded without hesitation. "I want you."

He smiled, an odd mixture of sweetness and lust. His body relaxed and his pupils dilated even more. "And does that mean that I'm once again going to be allowed to taste you, Molly? Can I drink from you while we share each other's bodies?"

"Oh God yes!"

She knew he was strong, stronger than before. He had explained some of his enhanced abilities while chatting in the lab. But she'd never seen an actual display before (other than the recent flying stunt and the one time he'd attempted to compel her). As soon as her final acquiescence was uttered, Sherlock started ripping off her clothes, shredding them in the process. Within minutes Molly was completely bare, breathing heavily and extremely turned on by the display of very ungentlemanly behaviour. She was a little ashamed of exactly _how_ turned on she was. _I'm a feminist for God's sake!_

He smirked at what she could only assume was the wide-eyed, slack-jawed look on her face and said, "I'll replace them." Leaning back, he quickly shucked his jacket and kicked off his shoes. Then suddenly he was on top of her once again, this time letting their bodies touch; the feeling of his hard cock was unmistakable and incredibly enticing. His purple eyes glittered as he traced her jugular with the tip of his index finger. "Wanted you for so long."

"You're not the only one," Molly said as she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down until their lips met.

He kissed her sweetly, which she wasn't expecting. His closed mouth rested on hers for a long moment causing her to moan, wanting more.

Pulling his head away, he studied her for a moment. "So soft, I knew they would be. So lovely." He kissed her again and Molly parted her lips in invitation. He didn't take it, instead he nibbled on her lower lip, sucking on it gently like it was a ripe piece of fruit. Once again she marveled at the fact that he kept his fangs at bay. She's expected him to bite her immediately, but he seemed intent on savouring the experience.

God, if he didn't properly kiss her soon…

Diving back down he took her lips once again this time forcing his tongue into her mouth before she even had a chance to complain. He had one hand on her breast, plucking at a nipple, and the other buried in her hair, turning her head to accommodate his kiss. He didn't let up, just kept kissing her like mad, his tongue (God, it was long) coaxing moan after moan from her. Air burnt her chest as she fought to inhale or exhale, whatever she needed to to to remain conscious. Finally, she realised she was going to have to do something or he'd literally kiss her to death! She pushed back on his shoulders with all her strength and he lifted off of her.

He looked slightly horrified. "Fuck! I'm sorry. I forgot that you have to breathe."

She took several gasping breaths. "'S'okay… just… gimme a… mo'."

Sherlock sat back on his heels and waited for her to recover. At least he took the opportunity to remove his shirt and unbutton his trousers. "Feeling better?" he asked sheepishly after several minutes.

Molly nodded and replied, "Who needs breathing? Breathing's boring. Now where were we?"

A bright smile lit up his face. "I'll be more careful this time, promise," he said as he laid next to her, placing a hand on her fleshy stomach. "I believe I was kissing you breathless." And kissed her shoulder.

Catching him off guard, Molly flipped him onto his back and sat astride his hips. "When are you going to bite me?" she asked as she ground her core against his erection.

He groaned and serged up to meet her, holding onto her thighs tightly. "When the time is right."

She rolled her eyes, then her hips once more before moving off of him to pull his trousers down. As soon as they cleared his hips his cock sprang free and Molly smiled up at him. "That explains a lot."

"What?" he asked.

"You never have any VPLs. All perfect arse and no pantie lines. I suspected as much, but always wondered…" she trailed off as she took him in hand and lowered her head.

As soon as her lips touched the head of his cock she felt his hands under her arms, pulling her up to lay on top of him. "You can't do that! I won't last!"

"What?" She grinned. "Vampires don't have some kind of super-stamina?"

He flipped them back over and held her hands to either side of her head. "Molly Hooper, are you teasing me?" He nuzzled her neck and whispered, "That seems like a bad idea."

Molly giggled, then moaned as his soft kisses turned into sharp nips. This was it… he was going to do it…

But he didn't. He moved lower and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it to a hard peak before turning his attention to the other. Then he moved, kissing lower across her ribs, down to her navel, then back up to lick and suckle at the skin under her breasts. During his oral assault he kept grinding his cock into her thigh, her stomach, her hip. She wanted it inside her so badly she was about to start begging.

Still working his way upward, he paused at her right shoulder, nipping at the skin before moving on to her arm. Then he stopped. Molly looked down at him and their eyes met for a long moment and he smiled predatorily at her. Dipping his head he licked the inside of her elbow then looked back up, that's when she saw them. His fangs were now extended.

Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath and as she did she felt it: a pair of small pricks, cleaner than a needle, in her brachial artery. She cried out in what she could only describe as a 'neargasm' as she felt him start feeding, but before the feeling intensified, as she expected it to, he was gone. Opening her eyes, she found his face hovering over her left arm, blood smudged on his lips.

"Ready for more?" he whispered.

She nodded and he repeated his actions, first licking then biting the inside of her elbow. Once again, as soon as she started to climb, he retreated.

" _FUCK_ , Sherlock!" She panted. "Why?!"

"I'm savouring you, Molly. One doesn't _gulp down_ Chateau Lafite. No, it's to be enjoyed, slowly." He moved back to her breasts, licked her left nipple then sank his fangs the vein that ran next to it. She'd always hated her pale skin and the fact that that vein was so visible… not so much anymore.

Pleasure and pain exploded through her chest and down her body, pooling between her thighs. She was almost there when he removed his teeth once again. This time she reflectively grabbed his head. "Please! God, Sherlock please!"

Gently removing her hands from his hair, he placed them back on the bed. "I promise you'll enjoy the last one, Molly. But a little something for me first." He winked and kissed her chastely, leaving a trace of her own blood on her lips, before situating himself between her legs.

He pushed her knees up against her stomach, spreading her wide, obscenely wide as a matter of fact. If she hadn't been half mad with want she might have taken a moment to be embarrassed by the way he intensely stared at her. But at that moment all she could think about was coming.

"God, I'm going to enjoy this," he said before dropping his head to lay a delicate kiss on her overly sensitive clit.

Her hips jerked up, involuntarily. He just chuckled as he parted her even further before driving his tongue into her centre. She cursed and thrashed against his mouth as he lapped at her cunt, moving between her clit and core so quickly she couldn't build to an orgasm. Briefly, Molly wondered if super-sex was a newly acquired skill as he played her over and over, taking her to the edge only to deny her exactly what she wanted. Not that it didn't feel good - actually it felt amazing - but she wanted _more_.

Then his mouth was on her thigh, licking and nibbling. She looked up to see that he had one of his hands wrapped around his cock. "You ready for this?"

"Yes, please! Now!"

Once again he moved like lightening and was suddenly nudging her entrance with his cock. Braced on his arms, he lowered his head until their lips almost met. "You've made me so happy, Molly. I thought my life was over. Now… I feel like it's just begun."

She couldn't respond to that, so instead she pulled his face to hers. His hips surged as they kissed and Molly squealed into his mouth as he filled her completely. It felt so right- _he_ felt so right. His cock was large and felt absolutely perfect. The fact that his kisses tasted of blood and pussy turned her on in ways she couldn't begin to explain. Her body was a live-wire, she was about to snap.

"Tell me when you're about to come," he grunted out as he thrust.

"Any fucking second," Molly answered breathlessly.

He kissed her one more time and she felt him unsheathe his fangs in her mouth, pricking her tongue in the process. Moving to her throat, he kissed a wet trail up to her ear. "I love you, Molly Hooper. And I will for eternity," he said as he pistoned into her heat.

This time she was ready for the burn of his fangs. It only lasted a moment as mindless ecstasy rolled through her a hundred times more powerful than before. She opened her mouth to scream or call his name, but nothing came out. Her body tensed in orgasmic bliss as she buried her nails into the flesh of Sherlock's shoulders. Her orgasm didn't seem to want to stop; wave after wave, shudder after shudder ripped through her for how long, she didn't know. She was so overcome with the multitude of sensations (or she might have blacked out for a moment) that she completely missed Sherlock's finish. _Next time_ , she thought as she tried to regain her senses.

When she could finally form a thought, she found Sherlock sitting on the bed with a package of chocolate biscuits and a bottle of water, making her wonder just how long she'd been senseless.

"You okay?" he asked, looking a little nervous.

"Okay doesn't begin to cover it." She motioned to the biscuits. "Those for me?"

Nodding, he handed it to her then broke the seal on the water. "I was careful not to take too much…"

"I don't think it was that. I think it was the earth shattering orgasm," she explained as she reached for the bottle. That's when she noticed that the look on his face had changed. "Oh, make no mistake," She rolled her eyes. "you're still very much a man, you smug, prideful git," she teased.

"Yes… well, you weren't so bad yourself." He snatched a biscuit out of the package.

They ate in silence and shared the water for several minutes before Molly spoke again. "So… eternity?" she asked.

He actually looked slightly self-conscious for a moment before ducking his head and brushing some crumbs off the duvet. "Ah, well I suppose I was saying that even once you're gone and I'm… not, I'll still love you." He cleared his throat, then grabbed the water and took a drink.

Molly studied him for a moment as he drank and avoided looking at her. The decision was surprisingly easy. "So, have you satisfied your craving, Sherlock?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her.

He smiled, almost sadly and said, "I'll never get enough of you, Molly. But since I only have you for another forty years or so, I suppose I'll have to make do."

"And what if it could be longer?"

His eyes opened wide and he started to speak, but stopped himself. Getting up, he crossed the room, still completely nude. Hands on his hips he turned to her and said, "Do you know what you're asking?"

"I do."

"And you mean it?"

"Yes," she replied calmly.

With a sharp look, he turned and started pacing. After five minutes or so he stopped right in front of her and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Six months. You get to see how I have to live for six months before making this decision and after that if you still want this… I'll do it. I'll Turn you."

She was frankly shocked he'd agreed so easily. "If you think that's necessary, then fine. Six months." Wrapping her arms around his naked shoulders, she kissed his cheek. "I do have a question though."

"What's that?"

"Can you still drink from me if I'm a vampire?" she asked.

"Of course. I still bleed. I need to do some research, but I don't see why not. Why?"

"You're not the only one with cravings, Sherlock," she answered, making a suggestive movement against his body. "And I think I'm experiencing one right now."

Sherlock grinned as he pulled her in for another breathtaking kiss.

* * *

 _All right, it's finished. Please let me know your final thoughts. It means the world to me to hear from each and every one of you. ~Lil~_


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